


Home

by giraffewrites



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, kind of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 16:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18102218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffewrites/pseuds/giraffewrites
Summary: Billy's lived in different houses throughout his life, been trapped inside sets of walls that make him feel like he's going insane, had a roof over his head and food on the table. But he's never had a home.Until suddenly, he realises that all these years after leaving Hawkins, he has just that.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as a follow up for [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497607) fic, but in no means has to be.
> 
> Also, yes I'm meant to be on a hiatus but I needed to write and publish something... I guess it's a hiatus from my hiatus??? Okay I'll stop now

For most of his life, home has been a foreign concept to Billy.

Growing up, he never felt like he had one. Sure, he had a house to live in. Yes, people lived there with him. But no, it wasn’t a home. Even when his mother was alive, that didn’t make the small house in California a home. He misses her dearly, and he’ll never dismiss everything she did for him, but even she lacked the power of making those four dingy walls and the odour of alcohol into a home.

Inevitably, it got worse when she passed. She could no longer protect her son from the monster she married, and Billy found that the house he was raised in quickly turned into something much worse. It was a prison.

Hawkins was worse. The house was smaller, all of Billy’s friends were back in California, as was his mother and the small things that gave him comfort (the pizzeria, the beach, hell, even his school). With the house (prison) smaller, there was less space between Billy and Neil. More opportunity for Billy to fuck up and piss Neil off, the aftermaths of such showing upon his body.

Now is different.

Now he’s back in California, but a different part from where he’d grown up. He and Steve had considered living there, even checked out a few houses and even schools. And whilst the houses were nice and the schools had good ratings, it didn’t feel right to Billy to be living in that part without his mother. They’d considered moving closer to Indiana, but that idea didn’t sit right with either of them. In the end, they’d settled on living in San Diego, and haven’t looked back since.

When Billy walks through the front door, there’s laughter erupting from the kitchen. A hint of the first smile of the day appears on his face. Shoes and jacket placed by the door, he moves to stand beside the kitchen door.

“No he looks more like a cat!” Emily exclaims.

“No he’s much more a dog!” Ethan laughs.

“You’re both wrong, h-he’s a rabbit,” Rebecca adds in, voice quieter than her sibling’s but just as happy.

“I thought you guys were meant to be painting a butterfly,” Steve laughs. “How does a butterfly turn into a cat-dog-rabbit hybrid?”

“With magic!” Comes Emily’s voice again.

Eager to see what’s going on with the four of them, Billy turns to enter the room. The moment his presence is spotted, all three of his children run towards him, each trying to start completely separate conversations with him. “There’s enough of me for all of you,” he promises, each of them trying to push one another out the way. He kneels down and wraps his arms around them.

“You’re home early,” Steve comments, sounding exactly like a housewife from the books Billy used to read.

“Not a busy day,” Billy supplies, stifling a laugh when he sees the mess of face paint inflicted upon his husband. He rises to his feet, joining Steve at the table, Emily, Rebecca and Ethan not far behind. The two girls share his lap, Ethan perched on the table with Billy’s arm around him. “I think you’re all wrong, by the way,” he tells his family, looking at Steve but not in the eye, “you look like a bird.”

A playful argument emerges amongst the family, none of them agreeing on what exactly animal Steve’s been painted to look like (in reality, the painting resembles no animal whatsoever – but like hell are either men going to tell their children that).

“It’s nearly time for your guys’ bedtime,” Steve announces, earning the expected whines and ‘no’s from the children. “No whining, you’ve had a busy day. You need to rest.”

“But dad just came home!” Ethan protests with a well-practised pout, wrapping his arm around Billy’s neck.

“How about the three of you go pick out a film, and we’ll watch it before bed?” Billy suggests, his idea proving to be a good one when all three children run into the living room to choose a movie. “No arguing, and make sure it’s appropriate for all of you,” Billy calls, knowing Ethan’s love and Emily’s hatred for Goosebumps. He turns to Steve and rolls his eyes at the disapproving look he’s earnt, “They’ll be asleep in ten minutes and we both know it.”

Billy’s right. Within ten minutes, all three of the youngest Harringtons are fast asleep. The two parents tuck them into bed and head back downstairs.

“Picasso would feel threatened with their work,” Billy says teasingly, a makeup wipe in his hand. He’s sat opposite Steve at the island in their kitchen, knees brushing against one another’s, Billy’s other hand occupied by cupping Steve’s jaw.

“Oh yeah, I can totally imagine this,” Steve gestures to his face, “in a gallery.”

“You don’t need to be wearing paint to belong in a gallery,” Billy winks, never growing tired of the way Steve’s cheeks flush pink. He runs the makeup wipe down his nose and over his lips, discarding the wipe on the table and picking up another one.

“So why are you really home early?” Steve asks, giving Billy’s hand a squeeze when he freezes.

“I just… Jesus, Steve, I hate it,” Billy sighs, running a hand through his hair. He props his arm up on the island and rests his chin in his hand. “I’ve never loved it, but it’s getting worse. Different management, new rules… it’s bullshit.”

Steve offers him a half-hearted smile, but it’s barely there. He knows how much Billy hates his job. “What about being a lecture?” He asks, not surprised with the groan Billy gives. “I know, you don’t want to teach psychology, but it’s got to be better than this.”

Billy’s been a psychologist for over a decade. He’s seen the change in the world of psychology, the new therapies coming and going, the new ‘right’ way to do things. He loves being a psychologist, adores being able to be the person someone can turn to and trust. But he hates – no, he loathes, how the company he’s employed by have turned out to be. They’re less concerned with helping people and more concerned with how many people each therapist can ‘fix’. It’s bullshit.

“Or there’s the option of starting your own business,” Steve continues. “Or go into business with someone else, didn’t you say Laura was leaving in a few weeks time?”

“Yeah but,” Billy runs his hand over his face, “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“Okay, we don’t have to,” Steve promises. He leans over to kiss the corner of Billy’s mouth. “Go have a shower, I’ll take the rest of this face paint off, and I’ll wait for you in bed.”

“Or…” Billy stands up, squeezing Steve’s hand. “You could join me in the shower.”

 

Joining Billy in the shower was a much better option. Even if they did have to shower twice. After getting changed and doing one last check on their children, the two men get into bed themselves. Billy lays on his side, pulling Steve closer. With his face buried in Steve’s neck, basking in the warmth of his arms and breathing in the scent of Steve’s body wash, a hand running through the back of Billy’s hair, Billy almost falls instantly asleep.

“Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you,” Steve whispers, pressing a kiss to the space next to Billy’s ear.

And that’s when Billy realises.

That’s when he realises that after the abuse his father put him through, the prison he felt he was trapped in after his mother’s death, the long he’s had all his life to belong, none of it really matters anymore.

Because he has Steve, and the kids, and sure maybe his job sucks, but he finally has what Neil insisted he’d never get; never deserved.

He has a home.

**Author's Note:**

> As a psychology student... some of Billy's anger concerning his job may stem from my own, lol.
> 
> Aside from posting this fic I really am attempting to have a hiatus... but my tumblr is giraffewrites if anyone's interested


End file.
